Harvey Gabor pushed the steel door open and peeked inside. Satisfied the way was clear, he signaled the Misfits, and the women followed him into the dank passageway.
Jetta lagged behind, hugging her chest; the lights were dim, and it smelled of rust. They came upon an intersection, and Gabor led them to the right. Jetta remembered Zandar's instructions, and she ran to catch up to the head of the line.
"It's supposed to be all lefts," she said, panting. "We need to go back."
Stormer looked worried. "I don't know, Jetta, the other way is too dark."
"I clearly remember being brought in from this direction." Gabor said. He pressed on.
"But, Zandar said—"
"Zandar kidnapped us in the first place, so fuck him… seriously." Pizzazz followed her father, as did Stormer.
Jetta decided to stay with the group, again lagging to bring up the rear. She caught up to the others when she rounded the last corner leading to the antechamber, and she stilled. The group had run into Zartan. He had pulled a small pistol out of his ankle holster, and he waved Jetta over to join the others. She obeyed.
Zartan approached them with a limp. "Harvey… today won't be a total disappointment after all."
He cocked the hammer on his derringer.
—oOo—
A right cluster, this is...
Ripper sighed as he entered the complex, grimacing at the obnoxiously loud alarm that rang throughout the facility. He paused when he came at a fork.
Is it a left or right?
He shrugged and went right.
Ripper opened the door at the end of the hallway and entered with his weapon raised, for he heard gentle footfalls—a woman's gait in high heeled shoes. A flash of ivory caught his attention and he smiled as he ran to catch up: the fates were kind this day. He rounded a corner to the secondary antechamber and came face to face with the albino.
The alabaster-skinned woman regarded him. Ripper approached, backing her into a wall. The tip of his weapon hovered at her belly.
Her lips trembled. "Please don't hurt me."
His hand brushed lightly against her check. "You shouldn't be wandering about in a place like this, luv. You never know who you might run into."
Cha-Thunk!
The tip of Ripper's saber-bayoneted rifle pierced the concrete wall that she was backed up against. Her body spasmed in resistance. A stream of oily crimson dripped between her legs.
With a leer, Ripper pulled the trigger.
BLAM!
A puff of air was forced out of her mouth.
Ripper licked the fresh red spatter that dotted his lips. He pulled hard to yank the bayonet's tip out of the wall, and she quietly slumped to the floor.
"Finally silenced that mouth on you, yeah?"
Ripper quickly rolled her onto her back, and he straddled her. Being almost nose-to-nose, he peered into her eyes in order to catch a glimpse before their lights grew dim, but he was too late, for there was no spark to be seen.
"Bugger… I guess that's that, then." In disgust, he kicked her still form over when he heard a beeping sound. He turned to the source and regarded Beach Head, who had just entered the room, the electronic device on his wrist continued to beep in the otherwise quiet antechamber.
The soldier's weapon fell from his relaxed grip as he regarded Roxy's still form.
As Ripper made a grab for his rifle, Beach Head was already charging, unthinking, and he tackled Ripper before the Dreadnok could bring his weapon to bear.
They rolled on the ground. Ripper's rifle skidded loudly across the floor, and it bounced off a steel support column before coming to a stop. He threw the masked attacker off of him, and he scrambled to his feet.
GI Joe and Dreadnok squared off.
"Ah am gonna kill you," Beach Head said, calmly. He wasn't bragging, just stating matters of fact.
But, being deprived for so long, Ripper, too, felt righteous, seething in denied bloodlust. He raised his fists, saying, "Bring it on, mate!"
Beach Head removed his gloves and came in swinging. There was to be nothing between him and the sensation of muscle and bone giving way to his fists. He wanted to feel the blood and sweat on his hands; he wanted to feel the enemy's skin scrape under his fingernails.
Ripper took two of the soldier's best punches. He spat out a tooth and smiled. "You hit like a girl."
Beach Head took the bait and rushed the Dreadnok. Ripper kept his guard up to block a left cross. He ducked the soldier's right hook, and the Dreadnok punched him hard in the stomach, following up with an uppercut that laid Beach Head out on his back.
"Mind if I cut in again, bloke?"
The soldier's head pounded, and his vision blurred; nevertheless, he forced himself to his feet.
Ripper continued to mock him. "The albino put up a better fight than you ever did. Lucky for you, I'm only into girls, or I'd have you bent over by now."
Beach Head snorted, and he raised his fists. "So, it also takes you more than one punch to knock a woman out, then?"
Ripper scowled, and he charged. Beach Head resisted the urge to meet force with force, so when Ripper came in for the tackle, Beach Head rolled over Ripper's back, hooking his arm around the Dreadnok's neck, and he used his momentum flip his enemy over his hip.
The wound on his shoulder opened.
Ripper did a bellyflop onto the hard ground that knocked the wind out of him. Beach Head kicked him over and mounted him, raining down blow after blow to Ripper's face—which he scarcely had the wherewithal to defend himself against. Beach Head ignored the pain from his already bloodied knuckles, when a whispered entreatment from Ripper stilled him:
"Merthy."
"What did you say?"
"Merthy… pleath…."
"YOU HAVE THE GALL TO BEG FOR MERCY?" Beach Head raised his fist, but stood down as Ripper was unconscious. He got off of him and rested on his knees. He breathed deep.
I'm sorry, Pellegrini.
An odd rustle, along with a subtle hint of movement caught out of the corner of his eye, made the hairs on the back of his head stand on end. Beach Head regarded Roxy: she was sitting up, looking back at him with lifeless eyes.
The soldier curled his lip. Fuck.
Roxy-HARPy cocked its head to one side. An all too human-like, almost orgasmic, gasp of surprised escaped its lips.
"No… no… no…." A sudden surge of adrenaline gave the human the means to rise to his feet, but not much else. With a flick of his wrists, a tactical baton extended from each hand.
The HARPy crouched on all fours. A spark of recognition registered on its inhuman countenance as it spoke in an incomplete digitized simulacrum of Roxy's voice:
"D-D-Datum: Beach Head, Mission Commander for G.I. Joe. Classification: Alpha level threat. Mission Parameters: Extirpation—with extreme prejudice."
The HARPy glided on the tips of its toes and charged in screaming.
Beach Head feinted to the right; the HARPy's swipe missed as he slipped to the left.
"Pshaw!" The batons twirled expertly in the human's practiced grip. "Don't I get a conclusion?"
It smiled. "Does it matter?" It screamed and charged again.
He reversed the grip on his batons, using their steel to protect the length of his forearms in order to deflect the HARPy's deadly blows. Simply reacting, he let himself go and fought on autopilot, dipping into that well of Human survival instinct that kept his species alive for a million years.
The HARPy's speed was superhuman, but it was dumb, repeating the same sequence off attacks over and over. Beach Head bided his time, slipping and weaving around its now familiar four-punch combo; he ducked at the end of it and twisted his entire body to deliver a punch where Ripper had previously impaled it. He twisted in the opposite direction to give it another fist-sized dose of all his 180 pounds through the gash in its false flesh. His knuckles were now numb—the HARPy felled onto its back. Beach Head propped his hands on his knees, resting as best he could half-bent.
Its eyelids fluttered. "P-P-Performing system diagnostic."
It was a short reprieve for the human, as the HARPy soon rose to its feet, its eyes glazed over in reverie. "Analyzing enemy fighting style… no matches found." Undeterred, it sprinted toward him, screaming, "I'M GOING TO T-T-TEAR YOU APART!"
Beach Head's defense did not waver, but his arms grew heavier with each block. Even with his economy of motion, he was gassed. His body ached, starved for food, rest and oxygen. The only part of his brain that worked was the primitive lizard-brain, and it didn't afford him much thought:
Tactics?
No. The android will just adapt.
Different!
Yes. This HARPy was different, not only trying to win, but also to hurt him, desperate to take him out with one frighteningly aggressive punch.
Too aggressive...
He remembered the dance club and the slam dancing: the less he resisted the more control he had, like a surfer against an invincible wave. Dodging and parrying the HARPy's relentless offense, he worked his way between it and a nearby support beam.
However, the effort was costly, having weathered too many blows, the load had taken its toll on his wounded shoulder, and on the next attack, it failed him. The HARPy's punch slipped through, grazing his jaw, and he stumbled.
The HARPy paused, reassessing its enemy.
The soldier glanced behind him long enough to check his position relative to the column, and he regarded the cruel machine with pleading eyes. "I'm too tired; I can't go on"—he dropped his batons—"I surrender."
With a sadistic smile, the HARPy approached. "No quarter given." And it reared back; the 'knuckles' in its raised fist cracked.
At the last second, he turned his body, sidestepping the punch. The HARPy had put so much power into its killing blow that physics demanded it fly across the room to strike the solid steel support column full on with its body, creating a shower of sparks.
The human grinned. No countermeasures for Aikido.
With the last of his strength Beach Head charged, and he leapt, twisting and spinning his body to extend his leg at maximum inertia. The sole of his thirteen delta army boot smashed into the side of its head, leveraging the edge of the steel beam as a fulcrum on which to break the HARPy's neck. The machine continued to speak, but was unable to issue commands to the rest of its twitching chassis. Its Synthoid shell lost its form to drip off its endoskeleton.
Beach Head lay on the ground, gasping for air; he looked to Ripper:
Still out for the count.
He heard movement on the other side of the door. He looked for his weapon.
Too far away.
The door swung open. He was relieved when he recognized the entrants.
Sci-Fi and Mainframe were the first to enter. They secured Beach Head, and Mainframe gave the all clear for the rest of the team to storm the room. Airtight cuffed Ripper. Cross Country loaned Beach Head is canteen, which the Master Sergeant promptly emptied.
Mainframe regarded Beach Head's handiwork. "Did you leave any for us?"
"You can have the rest," Beach Head said. He took Mainframe's proffered hand.
Mainframe helped Beach Head to his feet, making note of how defeated he seemed. "What's wrong?"
The ranger shook his head. "I didn't find Pellegrini."
"Hey! When are we going dancing again, soldier boy?"
Beach Head snapped in the direction of the voice to see that Roxy had just entered the room, with Techrat and Cover Girl bringing up the rear. She regarded him, arms folded, with her usual demeanor: ever ready for mischief.
That annoying, smart alecky, infuriating trouble-magnet!
Mainframe smirked. "We picked her up not far from here. She banged on the door to her cell when she saw us pass."
Distracted, Beach Head barely grunted in acknowledgement. His relief at the sight of Roxy alive began to whittle away at his battle rage. She shied away under his steadfast gaze, and she blushed—a reaction impossible for someone with her condition to hide. A vain attempt was made to stifle her nervous smile, so she bit her lip. This softened the weary soldier:
...Adorable….
Beach Head forgot his fatigue, and he approached her. She yelped when he picked her up by her tiny waist to spin her around, and he laughed... and she laughed.
He set her down; their eyes met.
"I don't believe it. Y-you came for me," she said. "How did you find me?"
"Techrat got us in the general vicinity, but the bug I planted in your switchblade, got us the rest of the way."
Her brow furrowed as she parroted, "My switchblade…."
He smirked under his mask. "It's the only thing I knew you would be sure to carry with you if you ever bolted."
She smiled, whispering, "You are an asshole."
Beach Head allowed Roxy to roll his mask up just past his lips. He embraced her and leaned in, but he stilled upon realizing that they had an audience. The soldier grimaced as he regarded the looks on his teammates' faces, particularly Mainframe, who sported the most lopsided grin he had ever seen.
However, the moment ended with the sound of a gunshot that echoed all throughout the antechamber.
Beach Head felt Roxy flinch against him.
"Those screams… it's my band," she said.
Beach Head remembered the mission. "Double time: Mainframe take point." As the rest of the team fell in line, he grabbed the musician's hand, saying, "From now on you don't leave my sight, understand?"
Roxy blinked. "O-okay."
—oOo—
A stream of smoke seeped from the end of Zartan's backup pistol. He sneered as he regarded his latest victim, Harvey Gabor, clutching the fatal gunshot wound at his chest. The old man slumped at his daughter's feet.
Zartan pointed his weapon, cycling it between the three remaining Misfits. "My derringer only has one more shot… who's it gonna be?"
Pizzazz regarded her father, and then she looked defiantly to Zartan. Stormer and Jetta crowded on either side of her, hand in hand, no longer afraid of fate.
With a smile. Zartan aimed his pistol at Pizzazz's head. "Say hello to your daddy for me."
Zartan's trigger finger stilled when he saw Gabor, fighting to get his feet, nigh exhausting the remaining embers of his life force.
The old man stood tall with dignity, shielding his daughter. "I love you, pumpkin."
Zartan smiled, and he pulled the trigger.
BLAM!
PIzzazz looked on in disbelief. "Daddy?" She knelt at his side and shook him as if he were merely sleeping.
The door on the other side of the antechamber flew open. Mainframe led the Joes in storming the room. "Zartan!"
Zartan fled, barely preceding a hail of bullets. He bolted the exit from the outside.
Cross Country tested the door. He aimed at the lock with his shotgun. "We'll go after that asshole!"
"Negative," Beach Head ordered. "Secure this area." He regarded Gabor. "Do what you can for him, Airtight."
Airtight knelt next to Gabor, but Pizzazz, having her father cradled in her arms, was understandably distrustful, reacting violently to the soldier's advancements.
Airtight made no effort to hide his annoyance. "If the expectation is for me to perform a miracle, then I need the Misfits completely out of this room, now!"
Pizzazz was inconsolable and even less cooperative. It took both Sci-Fi and Cross Country to pull her off as she kicked and screamed. Cover Girl corralled Stormer and Jetta and likewise led them out back where the Joes had come.
Roxy moved to her friends, but she forgot that Beach Head had her hand. "I have to go with them, soldier boy. They need me."
Their fingers deinterlaced, and she left to rejoin the Misfits. Stormer and Jetta embraced Roxy, and the three of them turned their attention toward Pizzazz. Her screams were quieted as the door leading out closed.
Airtight retrieved the first aid kit from his provisions, and he promptly went to work on Gabor. His attitude was less than sanguine.
Not far away, Jerrica and Synergy, roused by the gunfire, peeked outside through their door, held slightly ajar.
Oh no… Jerrica averted her eyes at the sight Airtight's futile ministrations. "Synergy, is Shangri-La still in your memory banks?"
"Affirmative," Synergy replied, and in perceiving Jerrica's intention added, "I might be able to interface this body with what's left of my former housing to compensate for it's damaged subsystems; however, the restorative harmonics of Shangri-La's music has always been beyond my capabilities. The only device capable implementing it fully is the human voice."
Jerrica nodded. "I understand."
Synergy went to work on her former chassis. The goo flowed from her arm and invaded the charred husk, and it came back to life, albeit nowhere near its former glory. Two of its emitters fizzled, never to light up again, and the main display flickered showing only static. "Jerrica, you do realize that if you do this, our identities will be exposed to the very men your father rebelled against?"
"If I allow a daughter to lose her father, I'll be no better than those my father rebelled against."
Synergy shuddered, and the room filled with light.
Jerrica opened the door. Holograms imbued with sound poured out into the antechamber.
Airtight straddled Gabor. "He's stopped breathing… starting chest compressions." But, he paused when he heard something strange:
"Shangri-La, Shangri-La, Shangri-La…"
"Where is that music coming from?"
"Keep working, Airtight!" Beach Head ordered. He shouldered his rifle and, with a sideways nod, he and Mainframe followed the lights. They found the cell and entered, securing the room on either side. Beach Head regarded the mangled pistol at his feet and kicked it aside. Two women stood amidst the swirling lights and pleasant vibrations, lacking any outward concern toward the soldiers' presence. One of them started singing.
. . .
Shangri La: let the music play...
The music will soothe you
It will help to make you whole
The music will help restore your SOUL!
. . .
Beach Head winced, almost causing him to drop his weapon. It felt like someone had opened his sinuses with a crowbar. The jarring sensation lessened to that of prickly tingles which diffused themselves to the knot in his head and the wound in his shoulder.
. . .
Shangri-La: let the music play...
The sound will surround you
It will help you to revive
The music will make you come ALIVE!
. . .
Gabor stirred.
Airtight placed two fingers on the side of his patient's neck. "I have a pulse!"
. . .
It will heal you
It'll ease the strife
It'll bring you back…
It'll bring you back to LIFE!
. . .
"The bleeding stopped!" Airtight yelled out across the antechamber. "I don't know how, but he's stable." He placed the end of his stethoscope to Gabor's chest, and he smiled. "Miracle achieved as ordered, Master Sergeant."
Beach Head put his hand to his shoulder and inserted his fingers underneath the field dressing covering his wound, but the wound was gone. Rotating his shoulder, it felt as good as new—he felt better than new. "Can we move Gabor?" He yelled out.
"Yes," Airtight said with confidence.
Beach Head grunted under his breath approvingly, when he returned his regard to the two women in the room; now that the song was over, they had started to inch toward a hole in the wall that appeared to have been melted from the inside. He leveled his rifle in warning—"Don't you two move"—and the women stilled themselves. He kept them covered as his computer specialist was elbow-deep in the innards of the deactivated machine. "Mainframe, is that what I think it is...?"
Mainframe smiled. "Affirmative... most of these components are identical to electronics retrieved from the Watchdog platform. This must be Synergy."
"What's its status?"
"It's trashed. Most of the circuit boards are blown, but some of its components may still be viable. I won't know until I get it back to headquarters."
"Get on the horn, and apprise HQ of our status."
Mainframe nodded toward the women. "What about them?"
"I got this," Beach Head said. He waited until Mainframe left to address the women. "Start talking... and stow the doe-eyed act."
"We haven't done anything wrong," Jerrica began. "We've been kidnapped and held against our will by a madman named Zartan. That's the truth."
Beach Head looked into the young woman's eyes, and he believed her. Nevertheless, he asked, "What the hell was in that music?"
"It was something that was gifted to me, that I was told to freely gift to others," Jerrica replied. "That's the truth."
"I believe you, but I still gotta to take you in. There's a lot of questions that need to be answered."
Synergy, still in the guise of Jacqui Benton, stepped forward calmly. "We do not recognize your authority to detain us. We have broken no laws."
However, Jerrica wisely interceded. "We just want to go home and back to our lives and disappear…. People depend on me: I have to be responsible." She hugged her chest, spent of emotion. "I'm begging you."
Beach Head looked into her eyes, and he knew that he was not being deceived. Yet, a torrent of conflicting passions assailed him.
. . .
I've never been so torn before!
Duty is what I bleed, but whom do I fear more?
At what point does humanity take a stand
And defer to a higher Chain of Command?
Doesn't this world suffer enough cruel vice?
Do we need another B.E.T.
or another Mass Device?
. . .
Beach Head lowered his rifle, and he slung his weapon over his shoulder. "Get out of here before I change my mind."
Jerrica smiled in relief. "Won't you get in trouble?"
"I'll tell them that you were just the lingering after effects of that light show you put on."
She approached and hugged the soldier tightly, saying at their parting, "Thank you."
Beach Head regarded the two women as they made their egress through the blast hole in the side of the wall. He waited for Jerrica to step step through first before calling out, "Hey! Roger Bacon!" He smirked in satisfaction when the blonde that gave him sass straightened. "I thought I recognized your voice... Stay off the military networks, darlin'."
Synergy regarded him, cocking her head to one side. "I will comply." And she left through the breach.
Alone, Beach Head dared to remove his balaclava. I'm getting soft in my old age... He closed his smiling mouth shut, and for the first time in recent memory, he breathed in and out of his nose unimpeded through clear sinuses.
—oOo—
The cold night air made Jerrica shudder. "I'm starting to think we should've asked that army guy to borrow a Jeep or something." With a heel missing from one of her shoes, she struggled to keep pace with Synergy as they walked the desolate dirt road.
"I can carry you if you'd like," Synergy said.
"No Thanks," Jerrica replied. "I wonder how long it is to the next town?"
"Thirty point five seven miles."
"That was a rhetorical question, Synergy. Now, I wish I didn't know."
"Sorry, some of my interpersonal subroutines may've become corrupted during the transfer. I'll need to do a full system diagnostic when we get home. Fortunately, our ride will be here momentarily."
"What ride?" Jerrica questioned.
"Aja and Rio are enroute via automobile."
Jerrica gave Synergy a sideways glance. "How do you know that?"
"Aja has the Jemstar earring you left behind at Starlight Mansion. I was able to relay her our coordinates before I was compromised." She paused, allowing Jerrica to catch up. "That was clever, by the way, leaving an earring behind for her to find."
"Thanks. But, why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I wanted to surprise you." Synergy smiled. "Are you surprised?"
"Yes." She brushed past her. "But, running that diagnostic sounds like a good idea." She sighed. "What are we going to do with you, honey?"
Synergy looked to the distance. A faint light appeared in the darkness. "I think I see them."
Jerrica gasped. "Oh, no… Rio… my makeup… I look horrible."
Synergy placed her hands on Jerrica's face, and her Synthoid flesh diffused across the woman's skin, dissolving the dirt and ruined make-up. It retracted, leaving Jerrica fresh-faced.
"There, that's the best I can do until we get home."
As the lights came closer, Jerrica regarded Synergy as Jacqui Benton. "Er, it might be a good idea not to present yourself as a woman who's been legally dead for going on fifteen years."
"I concur." Synergy withdrew into herself and morphed into Jem. She smiled in response to Jerrica's stunned expression. "Are you surprised?"
The car approached, its bright lights parking in front of them. The doors opened; Rio and Aja exited the vehicle.
Rio approached first. "Jerrica? Jem?"
"Jerrica! You're all right!" Aja gasped and stopped short of hugging Jerrica when she noticed that Rio was already embracing Jem. She slowly poked her finger into Jerrica's chest and almost screamed as Jerrica was likewise solid.
Jerrica bit her lower lip and said, "I'll explain later." She hugged Aja. "I'm just so glad to see you. I love you so much."
"I love you too, sweetheart."
"Can you ever forgive me?"
"For what?"
"For everything." Jerrica's eyes pointed in Rio's direction. "I mean everything."
"There's nothing to forgive." Aja took her hands and recited the sister's pledge. "We solemnly promise to share everything we have. And to be good and true friends forever and ever, and to let nothing interfere with our friendship."
Synergy, as Jem, came between them, hooking an arm around Jerrica and Aja, saying, "Even boys?" They all naturally regarded Rio. "Because, boys suck."
Rio smirked. "Have fun walking home, ladies."
"Rio, you're so funny," Jem said. She then paused, her lips in a pout, as she realized, "We're missing the lemonade." She headed for the car. "C'mon guys, let's get some lemonade."
Aja arched a curious eyebrow."Er, is Jem alright?"
Jerrica smiled weakly. "She's had a really long day. She'll be fine."
Aja joined Jem in the car.
As Rio likewise started for the vehicle, Jerrica blocked his path, placing her hand on his chest. "Hey."
"Hey."
"Have I said, thank you yet?"
Rio grinned. "As a matter of fact, you haven't."
Jerrica pulled him down, and she kissed his forehead. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She met his eyes in genuine affection, saying, "I'll always love you. Do you know that?"
Rio smiled. "I'll always love you too." He looked to the car. Jem was hanging out of the window, regarding them with an amused lopsided expression. He cleared his throat and escorted Jerrica to the vehicle.
"Come to think of it, lemonade does sound like a good idea..."